Unfinished Sympathy
by Rambling Scribe
Summary: Spoilers for 5.1 and 5.2. Set between 5.2 and 5.3. Harry realises it's now time to put his plan into action. Ruth and Harry. One-shot.


**Disclaimer: Spooks belongs to Kudos and the BBC. **

**Spoilers for 5.1 and 5.2.**

**A/N: This is set between 5.2 and 5.3. Unbeta'd so any mistakes are mine.**

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**Unfinished Sympathy**

_You're the book that I have opened  
And now I've got to know much more_

'_**Unfinished Sympathy' – Massive Attack**_

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The cool breeze is welcoming and Ruth closes her eyes for a moment before stepping out onto the roof. The tiredness that has dogged her for the last few weeks has been overwhelming today. She won't allow herself the indulgence of blaming it on the memorial service she attended earlier. That would be selfish – akin to blaming Colin for dying. She won't do that.

She leans against the concrete parapet and thinks about the hour spent in the Foreign Office chapel. Vivid images fill her mind. Colin's mother, tearful but dignified, supported by his sister. His brother, whose physical resemblance had made Malcolm blanch – 'it's like seeing a ghost' he had whispered to Ruth as she squeezed his hand. And then Harry. Arriving just in time from his meeting and sitting next to her.

It seems to Ruth that Harry is always there. He used to be on the periphery of her life but now he is getting closer. Whatever that indefinable _something_ between them is, it's strengthening, she knows that. It is frightening and exhilarating. She wants him, needs him. She thinks it's mutual but she is not brave enough to find out. Not yet.

Harry watches her, wondering what thoughts are filling her head. He is certain she is thinking about the afternoon's events. Her sadness is palpable, seeping into the air around her. He wants to hold her, comfort her, tell her he will keep her safe but that is a promise he is not sure he can keep. Colin should have been safe but he died, and in a most horrific way.

His foot scrapes on a flagstone, deliberately perhaps, revealing his presence.

She turns to look at him. "I didn't realise you were here."

Her voice is soft and he only just hears her. "Sorry. I'll leave you in peace."

"No, you don't have to go."

He tries not to read too much into her words. Maybe she intends to go back to her desk or maybe she wants to spend a few minutes alone with him. He stands next to her, close but not too close. He rests his arms on the low wall in front of him and clasps his hands together to stop himself reaching out for her.

"I was just thinking how much things have changed." Her eyes drift across the skyline as she speaks.

He waits patiently, knowing she will say more.

"Even London has changed, although some of it has been very subtle." She points across the river. "The Eye for example. It looks like it's always been there but it's only a few years old."

He follows her gaze and studies the delicate circular structure that fits so perfectly into the landscape.

"I think," she says quietly, "that what I like most about it is that it turns so slowly you have to stop and watch it, to convince yourself it really is moving."

"A brief moment of stillness in a tumultuous day." There is a wistfulness in his voice that makes her heart ache a little more. "We don't get enough of those."

She watches him as he speaks, looking for clues, analysing. It's what she does. "They're few and far between."

He turns back to look at her and time stands still, just for a moment.

"Have you been on it, the Eye?"

She looks mildly embarrassed. "No I haven't. It's on my list of things to do."

He smiles, wondering what else is on her list.

"Have you?"

He nods. "Yes, before it opened to the public. All those dignitaries who were going to get a free ride; it would have been a substantial prize for a determined terrorist."

A security nightmare in a seemingly more innocent age. Ruth wonders if fate is playing some sort of twisted joke on the world - the much heralded new millennium bringing with it new horrors. Or maybe they are new variations of old horrors.

Intuitively, Harry is aware her thoughts are heading down a dark path again. "You should go on it. You get a different perspective on London."

"I want to but I'm not all that good with heights," she laughs self-consciously.

"You'll be fine. It's perfectly safe."

"Maybe I just need someone to come with me…to hold my hand." There is a hint of invitation in her voice and a promise in her eyes.

"Maybe," he says, softly. He knows their relationship is changing and he is certain she can sense it as well.

She scrutinises his face: the lines, the faint scars, the patchy stubble. All of it is as familiar to her as her own features and she takes comfort in that familiarity. If she thought about him dispassionately she might concede that he's not obviously handsome in the way that Adam and Zaf are, but none of her thoughts about Harry are dispassionate. She's not sure they ever have been.

His phone rings and he checks the caller's name. "I have to take this," he smiles apologetically.

"I have a couple of things to finish before I go." She starts to move away from him.

"Don't go home without saying goodnight."

If she's surprised by his comment, she doesn't show it. Instead, she gently squeezes his arm, her hand lingering for a moment or two, before she turns and heads back towards the stairs.

He watches her go, knowing that it is now time to put his plan into action. He will court her, treating her with the kindness and respect she deserves. And he will love her, always.

_The End_

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**Thanks for reading :) **


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